That Tuesday Night
by BellatrixLestrangey
Summary: Tumblr prompt; "Could you write an smut GantlosxIcyxValtor fanfictions...where Icy can t decided which one is the right one?" Icy finds herself playing a dangerous game trying to juggle the adventurous & wild Gantlos and the passionate & romantic Valtor. When her secret comes unraveled she is forced to deal with the outcome.


_At 12 years old she held up two dresses; one long and flowing made of white glittering lace. The other, a mini-dress. Deep blue and adorned with raven-black gemstones._

 _She liked them both._

 _Each displayed its own perks and flaws. The white one fitted her pale hair, eyes, and overall complexion far better. But it looked more like a dress for a fairy. The dark blue one aligned much better with her personality, but it didn't quite emphasize her natural beauty._

 _Her mother's credit card had bought her both._

 _But at the end of the day she had to pick one to wear to the dance._

Lying in bed, Icy's combed her finger nails through Valtor's hair. She found yet another tangle. The man flinched as she worked her fingers through the knot. Honestly, the man had no clue how to take care of his hair. She had half the mind to cut it shorter as he slept.

She pressed her body closer against his, his bare skin warm against the chill of her own. This was how she spent most Mondays; either lying next to him in bed or working her hands all over his body. Sometimes both.

That night was a both night. Her body still feeling rather tired, an echo of pleasure still lingering between her thighs.

He'd done well that time.

She pursed her lips and continued working at the knots in his hair. Perhaps she couldn't get mad at him for his unkempt locks—at least not on that night—after all, it was probably her own fault that his hair was so tangled.

Friday nights were also extremely enjoyable. Less passion and sex—not to say there was no sex at all—but still enjoyable no less.

Gantlos was quite different than Valtor. He was rougher really. Rougher, but still charming. The man fancied brining her to strange bars; the kind with cowboy boots, bull riding, and hardcore whisky-drinking.

When they did get down to it, the man would leave scratches down her back. And she'd leave bite marks on his neck.

Where Valtor left her feeling pure intoxicating pleasure, Gantlos left her with an enticing mixture of both the same pleasure and pain. She craved both the pleasure and the pain just as much as each other. She lived for the adventure.

And that's how it was, Valtor on Mondays, Gantlos on Fridays.

Icy found herself curled up next to Valtor again. The man had invited her over for another sensual night full of rose petals and fine sparkling wine. He fancied tucking the flower into her hair, behind her hair and then letting his lips slid on hers.

On that Tuesday night, he'd lifted her up and sat her on the sofa. Kneeling on the floor, his hands quickly working to unlace her cocktail dress. Before it could even hit the floor, the man was licking her up and down. Tongue toying with the belly ring she had just put in.

She wrapped her legs around his abdomen, body tensing in sensual-satisfaction…

The same way it had when Gantlos incorporated her various piercings into their play. Gantlos was different though, much different; quite odd really. For one he preferred her nipple rings to the belly ring. Toying with the piercings until the skin around them went raw. But he was also more vocal.

He had a thing for making sure she was 'still okay', as he put it.

Something Valtor really didn't do. Once he was in, he was in, and he'd keep going until the two of them both reached their peaks.

Not that Icy minded.

If she did, the man would have already found himself in the hospital, impaled on a large ice spike.

Valtor was now on the couch too, shoving her back gently down onto the cushions. From there he slipped himself into her. She bit back an aroused cry.

The man clearly knew exactly what he was doing. He always did.

That night was an odd night, she realized as she lie next to him. She trailed her fingers over his biceps.

"You're not talking much tonight," Icy purred into his ear. "You're not talking at all, actually?"

"I have nothing to say to you." He grumbled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Icy frowned.

"I know about him. Well, I don't know who _he_ is. But I know that there is a him."

"And you didn't mention that before we had sex?"

"Nor did you." Valtor retorted. "But it's only wrong when I don't isn't it?"

"That's—"

"What? Not true." Valtor asked.

"I was going to say different." Icy murmured.

"Different how?"

Icy remained quiet for some time. "I should go…"

"Yes, you should." He thrust a lump of clothing into her arms. "Perhaps The Other will take you back." He spat.

On that Tuesday night, Icy realized the difference between Valtor and Gantlos.

It crossed her mind to not tell Gantlos. To just play it off like nothing happened and just get right to a usual night of drinking and partying. It crossed her mind to not even pay him a visit that Tuesday night. But she did, her hand—trembling far more than she'd ever admit—knocking softly on his door.

The man greeted her with one of his tight, crushing hugs before slinging his muscular arm over her shoulder and leading her inside. He moved in for a kiss, as always. She put a finger to his lips.

"Don't."

"Did I do something wrong?" He frowned, picking up a mug of beer.

"You didn't…"

"What did you do?"

"I think you mean _who_ did I do?" Icy mumbled her eyes scanning the table, the cabinets, the fridge, anywhere but his eyes.

When she bought herself to look at the man, he had cast his ridiculous black two-gallon hat to the side and was running his fingers through his hair, working a muscle in his jaw. His face red and hot.

In that moment she was expecting a fight; he'd hit her and she return the favor with equal force. What happened was rather worse. Gantlos sat down, expression going black. "I hope he's worth it. I hope he loves you more than I do…"

It wasn't up for discussion, she knew. That was her cue to exit.

And she did so with a hallow empty feeling. An empty feeling and a sense of horrible knowing; Valtor was pissed because his perfect sex toy wasn't all his. Gantlos was pissed because his lover had played him.

Monday had become a day of loathing, Tuesday a day of grief, Wednesdays & Thursday of a different kind of nothingness than they were before. But it was the Fridays that hurt the most.

On a Tuesday some months later Icy bought herself to visit one of Gantlos' favorite bars. She sat there, drumming her fingernails on the counter top, waving the bartender off upon him asking if he could get her anything.

The man returned with a drink anyhow.

"I didn't order anything." She murmured.

"Yes but someone else did for you." He pointed across the table. "If you don't want his…advances, I can rough him up a little bit."

"I can take care of myself." Icy shrugged. "Not that I need to." She added.

"You alright?" Gantlos asked.

"Fine."

"Liar."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Gantlos laughed. "The Rodeo House has been lonely without you."

Icy found her face scrunching up, "that's what this place is called?"

"Yeah. What have you been calling it?"

"The Hellhole that Gantlos drags me to." Icy answred.

"It seems you came her on your own accord this time."

"So I did." She trailed off.

His hand found hers, cupping it softly as it had the first night they'd met.

 _At 12 years old she had tried to wear the deep blue dress, leaving the lovely white one at home. Half way through the dance, the deep blue dress had snagged on a door handle and ripped. The disappointment to follow was excruciating. That is, until she decided to conjure up the white dress to replace it._

 _The white dress suited her better anyhow._


End file.
